


Prise de Fer

by tenlittlebullets



Category: Les Misérables - Victor Hugo
Genre: Awkward Boners, Canon Era, Fencing, M/M, Repressed Gay Revolutionaries, Savate, Unholy thoughts about priests of the Republic, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-14
Updated: 2014-03-14
Packaged: 2018-01-15 16:37:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1311727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenlittlebullets/pseuds/tenlittlebullets
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire preferred not to pry into his personal life, anyway, because Enjolras burned with the secret flame of religious fanatics and Grantaire didn't want to destroy his good opinion of a well-matched fencing partner by asking.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Prise de Fer

**Author's Note:**

> For the [prompt](http://tenlittlebullets.tumblr.com/post/71633605248/e-r-boners-in-denial) "e/R, boners in denial."

Grantaire would laugh bitterly about it afterwards, of course. He hadn't even know what Enjolras _was_ at the time. The sum total of what he knew about Enjolras was that he was a good fencing partner, that he was absurdly good-looking, and that he didn't talk about his personal life. Grantaire preferred not to pry into his personal life, anyway, because Enjolras burned with the secret flame of religious fanatics and Grantaire didn't want to destroy his good opinion of a well-matched fencing partner by asking. As long as he didn't know the details, he could find Enjolras' wholesome shining-eyed zealotry charming instead of offensively stupid, bask in its diffuse glow, stand up a little straighter in Enjolras' presence...

Christ, he should've recognized the signs and run while he still had the chance.

They maintained their delicate no-questions-asked equilibrium until the day Grantaire asked Enjolras if he knew savate. Enjolras had been _raised_ on savate. He was magnificent at it. By the third time he knocked Grantaire's feet out from under him, certain physical effects of Grantaire's admiration were making themselves known, much to his embarrassment—degenerate he may be, but even he had never bothered pushing his depravity as far as lust for his own sex. The fourth time, he managed to take Enjolras down with him, and so landed flat on his back with a panting Saint Michael on top of him.

If _Grantaire_ was feeling awkward, surely Enjolras would work himself into a fit of puritanical outrage when he noticed the obvious. It was this thought, combined with Grantaire's obstinate instincts towards devilment and provocation, that gave him the reckless idea to wriggle his hips and leer. That was it, really: he wanted to see Enjolras' reaction. But Enjolras, ever the deft sparring partner, parried him with a raised eyebrow and a wry, tight-lipped smile, as though to say _Yes, I noticed it too. How about that._ That was when Grantaire realized that Enjolras was in a similar state of excitement.

Well, hell. There was a first time for everything. Why not sample the sin of the ancients with a boy who looked like a classical statue? Grantaire threw caution to the wind and pulled Enjolras down into a messy, hot, open-mouthed kiss.

He shouldn't have been so surprised when Enjolras jerked away and sprang to his feet. Or so disappointed. "Oh, come on," he snorted to cover the sting of rejection, "don't play coy, it's plain enough that both of us want it. Let's try it, it'll be a lark."

Enjolras drew a breath and composed himself. For a man in his shirtsleeves, it was a marvellous impression of a dishevelled lover buttoning up his figurative coat and straightening his metaphorical lapels. "I'm sure it would, but it's not a desire I choose to pursue." He looked apologetic rather than outraged. It was a curiously perfunctory sort of apology, though: underneath it, Enjolras had suddenly turned to granite.

Grantaire sighed. He was almost impressed by the transformation. "A pederast _and_ a Puritan. Don't tell me, Enjolras, let me guess—you're bound for the priesthood."

Enjolras had already turned to gather up his equipment and leave. On his way out he shot Grantaire an enigmatic smile. "Come by the Café Musain tomorrow night," he said. "You'll see what kind of priesthood I'm bound for."


End file.
